CHAPTER 8

AVA'S POV

The front door opens while Marcus still has me pinned against the kitchen counter.

His hand is under my skirt. Two thick fingers are buried inside me, curling slowly. My leg is hooked high around his hip. I’m biting down on his shoulder to keep from making noise even though we thought we didn’t need to be quiet anymore. His cum from twenty minutes ago is still leaking out of me, slick and warm down my thigh. We’re both breathing hard. The kitchen smells like sex and coffee. We don’t hear the key in the lock. We don’t hear the door open. We don’t hear the...